


Blaise/Neville Prompted Ficlets and Drabbles

by FleetofShippyShips



Series: Prompted Harry Potter Works [27]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: HP: EWE, M/M, Post-Hogwarts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-10
Updated: 2018-02-05
Packaged: 2018-12-26 02:12:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12049155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FleetofShippyShips/pseuds/FleetofShippyShips
Summary: Prompted Blaise/Neville ficlets and drabbles from my blog.





	1. "How did that even happen?"

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter title is the prompt line for the drabble/ficlet, and any additional detail is in the chapter notes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompted by udderlymoo, specified to be nsfw, and submitted to and filled on my nsfw blog.

“How did that even happen?” Neville asked faintly, breathing heavily, his legs still trembling.

A breathless chuckle came from beside him. “Did you black out? That good, was it? I believe you put your fingers in my arse, wriggled them around a bit, and then gave me your cock, good and hard and—”

“I’m well aware!” Neville snapped, looking over.

Blaise turned his head too, meeting his gaze, and grinning. They were lying on the floor in sitting room. Both covered in a sheen of sweat, and still breathing loudly. The updated renovation and design plans Blaise had brought with him were scattered around.

Neville swallowed heavily. He was paying Blaise to design and oversee the renovations and design alterations to his manor, only to end up fucking him. That wasn’t appropriate.

“Are you?” Blaise teased, looking him over. 

“You work for me,” Neville muttered, trying not to follow suit. He failed, his eyes finding the evidence of what they’d done with ease. He didn’t remember sucking so many marks onto his skin, but they were blooming already, pink darkening to red, soon to be purple.

“Independent contractor,” Blaise said dismissively. “Hardly counts.”

“I don’t even like you. You’re an arse,” Neville huffed, before rubbing at his face. That wasn’t even true. He’d been so hesitant to hire him and have him around, but had found himself finding reasons to wander back inside and watch him direct the various workmen. Merlin, he’d even brought him tea more than once.

“That’s how this happened,” Blaise said, shifting to his knees, and then straddling his waist. Neville grimaced at the wet feel of his arse resting on his abdomen, but said nothing. “You’ve been checking out my arse for weeks. You’re nowhere near as subtle as you think you are.”

Neville scoffed, and propped himself up on his elbows. “And how could I not? When you’ve been flouncing around, dropping things everywhere, and always bending over when I’m behind you.”

Blaise shrugged, smirking down at him. “I know what I want, and I go for it.” He leaned down, until their noses were brushing. “And I want you again.”

“Right here? On the floor again?” Neville asked, swallowing as Blaise started brushing his lips along his jaw. “Would have thought you were too high class for that, if it hadn’t just happened once already.”

There was a rush of hot air over his neck, as Blaise chuckled. “I’m flattered you think I’m high class,” he said, before closing his mouth over Neville’s earlobe, and sucking.

Neville shivered, and shifted. He didn’t really want another shag on the floor. Not when there were two perfectly comfortable couches to choose from.

“You know what I really want, Longbottom?” Blaise asked, releasing his earlobe after a gentle nip, and brushing his lips over his throat as he talked. “I want you to take me out to one of your garden sheds. I want you to bend me over your workbench, and fuck me until you can’t be inside that room again without remembering the feel of my arse, and the sounds I make.”

An entirely embarrassing sound escaped Neville at that. Though he could easily blame it on the fingers now playing with his left nipple. 

“I want to go down on you in your orchard, so you can’t take a break and lean against a tree without remembering my mouth on you,” Blaise continued, pressing hot, open kisses along Neville’s collarbone after every few words. “I want to fuck you against the banister of your stairs, so you can never move around your house without remembering what it felt like to have my cock inside you.”

Neville moaned, shifting, as Blaise stopped talking, and started sucking and biting gently at his nipple, his body shifting, until he was pressing their hips together. Neville wasn’t sure if he should be embarrassed by the fact he was getting hard again from Blaise’s words. The pleased, smug sound, Blaise made, and he kissed across his chest to toy with his other nipple, was both satisfying and irritating.

He shouldn’t allow those images to affect him so much. But Merlin, they sounded entirely too good.

Blaise left his chest, and kissed him, open mouthed, deep, forceful. Neville groaned, and clutched at him as he rocked his hips, pressing them together. The longer they kissed, and the longer Blaise rutted against him, the harder it was for Neville to remember the two perfectly comfortable couches they could be on instead.

Finally retreating from the kiss, Blaise bit and sucked on his bottom lip, before meeting his gaze.

“I want to rim you over your dining room table, so every meal is accompanied by the memory of my tongue in your arse, and the way you beg and moan for me.”

Neville sucked in a sharp breath. “Who would have thought you’d be so desperate for me, Zabini.”

Blaise only grinned back. “Who would have thought you were such a fantastic fuck?”

Shifting, Blaise wordlessly summoned his wand, and within a few moments, he was crouching over Neville, and lowering himself onto his cock. Still loose enough from their previous fuck, he settled easily, and rested one palm on the centre of Neville’s chest for balance, as he tossed his wand to the side.

“Who would have thought you’d be forgiving enough to hire me when there are so many more qualified architects and designers,” he said, his expression softening. “I’m barely out of training. Even if I’ve seen a manor go through many, many changes over my lifetime, and my many step-fathers.”

Neville rested his hands on Blaise’s hips, his face feeling hot as he struggled to stay still and not thrust. 

“Everyone deserves a second chance,” he muttered. “And this better not be some sort of reward, because that’s just—”

Neville choked on his words, as Blaise suddenly rocked forward, until Neville’s cock was almost slipping out of him, and then slammed back, hard.

Smirking down at Neville, he rotated his hips. “Your reward was refusing to let you remove the oriel windows. Honestly, they’re gorgeous, and you have no taste.”

Neville clutched at his hips, as Blaise started lifting himself up and down, placing his hands on Neville’s shoulders for leverage.

“I’m fucking you, aren’t I?” Neville huffed.

Blaise stopped for a moment, and looked down at him with a raised eyebrow.

“It’s a compliment,” Neville muttered, taking the opportunity to push Blaise off him, and get on his knees. “Get on the couch.”

“I know it’s a compliment,” Blaise said, crawling over, but stopping, and only leaning forward on the seat of the couch instead, still on his knees. “It’s just a really good one. I’m impressed. Excellent delivery.”

Neville shook his head, shuffling up behind him, and pushing his lower back until his upper torso was sprawled onto the seat of the couch. “Grade my compliments later. And this isn’t what I meant by get on the couch.”

Blaise looked over his shoulder him.

“No. But tomorrow, every time your knees hurt, you’re going to remember this,” he said smugly.

Neville scowled at him, before lining his cock up, and pushing in, hard. Blaise made a pleased, groaning sound, pressing his face to the seat of the couch.

“Fantastic fuck,” he said, the words muffled, but still recognisable.

It wasn’t long before he couldn't form coherent words at all.


	2. "Why did you do that?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompted by udderlymoo.

“Why did you do that?” Blaise asked quietly, as the deathly silence of the ballroom began to be filled with chatter again.

Neville glanced at him once, then away, still catching his breath from his outburst, and tugging at his robes to straighten them.

“I think that’s obvious.”

Blaise glanced around. People were looking away in that way that made it clear that they were all very much still thinking of Neville’s outburst. It would probably be in the papers tomorrow.

“You can’t go insulting senior members of the government like that,” he said, still quietly.

“I’ll do more than that,” Neville snapped, his face reddening again. “I’ll be passing his name on the anti-discrimination committee. Those disgusting attitudes are no longer accepted in our society. The sooner those old wankers get used to that, the better!”

Blaise saw several people near them glance their way with scandalised expressions. It wasn’t the place to continue this, but neither could he hold his tongue.

“It’s not as if anything he said was untrue,” he muttered.

Neville grabbed his arm roughly, and yanked his sleeve up. Blaise managed to cut off his sound of surprise, but they drew attention anyway. Neville used his grip on Blaise’s arm to pull him closer.

“There is no mark on your arm, you are not a Death Eater,” he snapped, looking around until he spied the Deputy Chief of the Wizengamot, and scowling darkly at him. “Just because you were sorted into Slytherin when you were eleven years old is no bloody reason for—”

“Alright, calm down!” Blaise hissed, freeing his arm, and yanking his sleeve back down. “You’ve already made one scene too many.”

Neville took a few deep breathes, and then took his arm again. Before Blaise could protest, he was being tugged away towards the open doors leading to the gardens.

Rather than cause another scene, since the papers would already be unbearable the next day, he allowed Neville to tug him along. Once outside, Neville followed the edge of the manor, until the sound of the ball was faint, and there was no one around.

Stopping abruptly, Neville let go of his arm, and paced in front of him.

Blaise straightened his robes, and waited. From the way Neville had exploded at the Deputy Chief of the Wizengamot, this was a long time coming, and it was best to let him get it out of his system.

Finally, Neville turned on him.

“Where is that self-preservation that you Slytherins are so proud of?” he asked, his face no longer red, but still visibly upset. “How can you let people speak of you that way? You were never those things!”

As if a sudden heaviness settled on Blaise’s shoulders, he allowed his perfectly bred posture to slump.

“If I were to react as you did, I would find myself arrested. You still might be fined, or worse,” he said tiredly. “You shouldn’t have said anything. Getting yourself in trouble in defence of someone like me is just daft.”

Neville stared at him. The silence dragged on, until Blaise looked away, suddenly uncomfortable.

After a few moments, Neville sighed again. “Are we not friends now, Blaise?”

A tremor started in Blaise’s hands, and he clenched them tightly into fists. This was also a long time coming, and he still wasn’t ready for it.

“I have no other reason to spend so much time in your gardens and greenhouses, watching you work,” he muttered, still unable to look at him.

“And no other reason for me to go all those terrible plays with you,” Neville said, failing to lighten his tone, but making his intentions obvious.

But Blaise didn’t feel lighter, or more at ease. Becoming friends with him had been hard enough. More than that...it would be unbearable, for a time. The anti-discrimination committee was only making things worse half the time. Neville’s status as one of the Heroes of the Battle for Hogwarts might protect him to a certain extent, but there was still a black mark on many Slytherins, and those that were associated with them. If that ever changed, it would take at least a few more years.

“Blaise, I have every reason to defend you,” Neville said, quieter, softer. “I can’t stand to hear them talk about you like that. You don’t deserve it.”

Grimacing, Blaise found he still couldn’t look at him. “I could have been a Death Eater, if the war had gone on any longer. We can’t ever know what might have happened.”

“And you could have been one earlier. But you weren’t, and you didn’t want to be. That’s what matters.”

“I don’t want to talk about the war,” Blaise said, finally looking at him.

Neville nodded, but stepped closer. Blaise’s hands were still trembling, but Neville’s were steady, as he reached out to gently cup Blaise’s face.

“What about this?” Neville asked, searching his expression. “Can we talk about this?”

Blaise’s heart was racing. All the long looks between them, the gestures and casual touches that were starting to last longer and longer than was appropriate. Getting to know Neville had been an eye-opening experience. It made him regret so much of what an idiot he had been in school. For not seeing the worth of him sooner. For being so cruel.

He didn’t deserve him as a friend, and he certainly didn’t deserve this.

“I suppose it had to be mentioned, eventually,” he said, hating the way his voice shook.

Neville only seemed to look calmer. “We have such a strange way of doing these things, don’t we?” he said, stepping even closer. “But I’m more than ready to step back and continue as we have been. Because I won’t ever be able to stand by and hear people say such things about you without reacting that way. Without defending you. And I’d be stupid if I thought _this_ wouldn’t make all that worse for you.”

Unclenching his fists, Blaise reached across the scant distance, and rested his hands lightly on Neville’s waist. A gesture Neville took to mean he could step closer again, until their bodies were brushing, and Blaise could feel his breath, warm across his face, and smelling of the wine they’d been serving.

He almost wished Neville was drunk, but he only ever had one glass at events. If he was drunk, and things went badly, it would be so much easier to dismiss later.

“I stopped thinking you were an idiot a long time ago,” Blaise murmured. “But are you sure? Have you really thought this through?”

Neville smiled. “I’ve thought of little else for months, Blaise. And I knew you were thinking of it too. But thinking doesn’t always mean you want to actually do anything about it.”

Blaise closed his eyes, and gripped Neville’s waist tighter. “I do though. For months,” he admitted, his whole body feeling hot. Even knowing Neville wanted the same, it was so nerve wracking. “I’m not as brave as you. Spending time with you means so much to me now, the risk of losing that…”

Opening his eyes, he couldn't begin to interpret Neville’s expression, but the thumb brushing over his lips said a lot.

“Tell me clearly that you want this,” Neville said. “Or tell me you don’t, and nothing will change. We’ll still be friends. But tell me something, please.”

Blaise wanted to laugh at how ridiculous they were both being. But he had never been clear about his interest in men, and neither had Neville, and that was always hard to overcome, knowing but never having spoken of it. And Blaise was still disliked in society, even if he made them deal with him anyway, and Neville had already been harassed over their friendship. So much risk, knowing that more trouble would come from it, when things could just stay the same instead.

But he wanted so much more, regardless of the consequences.

“Neville, please,” he said, the rest of the words not forming, and still, Neville was stroking his lips with his thumb. Blaise just wanted to grab him by his collar, and kiss him until they couldn’t breathe. But he couldn’t quite make himself move. Neville would suffer more from this happening than he would, when he was so used to what people said about him. It didn’t seem right for him to initiate this.

“Please what?” Neville asked, letting his hand fall away, but still cupping his jaw with the other.

“You’re really going to make me say it?” Blaise asked, managing to scowl.

Neville smiled at him. “I guess not, though it is tempting,” he said, his voice tense, but still a bit teasing. A moment later, his expression cleared, and he leaned forward enough that their lips were almost touching. “Can I kiss you, Blaise?”

Blaise had to take a moment to steady himself. He’d been wanting this for so long, he might embarrass himself with his eagerness, and ruin the moment.

But he’d barely uttered an affirmation, before Neville closed the distance, pressing their lips together gently, still cupping his jaw with one hand, and the other arm circling around his back to pull him closer. Blaise didn’t resist for a moment, but melted into him, relaxing completely. It was over sooner than he expected, but Neville stayed exactly where he was, and rested his forehead against Blaise’s.

“Still want this?” he asked.

Blaise couldn’t help but snort. “No, you’re a horrid kisser, absolutely ruined the moment. I could never want anything to do with someone who kisses like that.”

Neville chuckled. “You know, you could cripple a man’s self-esteem with talk like that.”

Blaise smiled, keeping his eyes closed. “You’ll have to kiss me again, so I can be sure.”

“Oh? Just the once?” Neville teased. “These things take time, and careful consideration. You’ll want a large sample size to—”

“If you start talking about kissing like your bloody hybridisation experiments, you will be ruining the moment,” Blaise huffed, opening his eyes to frown at him.

Neville smiled back. “Would you believe I’m rambling because I’m nervous?”

Blaise laughed again, and then bumped their noses, feeling his face heat from the stupidity of the gesture, and the way it made his stomach quiver anyway.

“I want this with you, and no number of kisses will ever be enough for me,” he said, and that was as close as he could get himself to a declaration of feelings that night.

Neville bumped his nose right back, and then kissed him again. And again. He kept kissing until they parted breathless, and rather ruffled. He looked at Blaise like he was one of his precious hybrids, and it made Blaise’s stomach quiver again.

“I feel the same,” Neville said softly, and Blaise couldn’t even begin to tell himself he was only talking of kisses.

“I should hope so,” he muttered, before grabbing him by the collar, and pulling him in for another round.


	3. "Merlin, that was amazing!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompted by udderlymoo.

“Merlin, that’s amazing!”

Neville drank in Blaise’s expression. His eyes were wide and excited, his face lit up with joy. Some of Neville’s background anxiety about the date died down.

Ron’s advice had been right. Be himself, and if the other person didn't like it, they could sod off. Herbology was Neville’s life, and he didn’t want anyone in his life who couldn’t at least respect that. He owed Ron a few drinks. As much as he knew he shouldn’t put up anyone who couldn’t accept his passions, he’d never considered using herbology as a basis for a date.

It would certainly weed out anyone who wouldn’t like that passion of his.

But Blaise... Blaise was looking like Neville had the first time he’d developed this particular variety. He didn’t look bored or uncomfortable at all.

“Do they do this every night?” Blaise asked quietly.

Neville watched another of the plants spray a burst of glowing water droplets into the air. The shimmering haze thinned and faded as it fell back down, making the air appear to glow.

“Most nights. It’s excess water the plants absorbed during the day,” he explained, glancing back at Blaise’s face to gauge his expression. Seeing a beautiful plant was one thing, hearing the details bored most people.

Blaise reached out, as some of that glowing mist drifted towards them. “How does it glow?”

Neville shrugged. “I’m not entirely sure. Luna thinks it’s tiny glowing magical creatures in the water. I haven’t really investigated it past making sure it was safe for all the plants around it.”

Making an amused sound, Blaise turned to Neville. “So, really, this was an accidental creation?”

Feeling his face heat up, Neville nodded. “They kept getting waterlogged and rotting, I needed to hybridise them with something that would vent excess water. I just don’t know why it glows. The plant I took that trait from doesn’t glow.”

Blaise nodded, and didn’t look bored at all. “It’s beautiful though.”

Neville bit his lip. “You should see them after it’s been raining. They make the entire grounds glow all night.”

Several more plants suddenly shot sprays of water up from their centres, and Blaise stepped closer to Neville with an amused sound.

“Do you end up glowing too, when you come out to watch?” he asked.

Blaise snaked an arm around Neville’s waist, and leaned against him, as the air glowed with that shimmering haze again.

Neville’s face was still warm, as he looped an arm around Blaise in return.

“Yeah. Makes finding my way back to the house easy. Don’t need to light my wand.”

Blaise laughed, and turned to look at him. “It’s that strong? That sounds like something to see.”

“Next time it rains all day, you should come see,” Neville suggested, his stomach twisting with nerves. Even though Blaise had made his interest known, being dragged out onto the grounds of Neville’s estate to look at plants in the dark probably wasn’t the kind of dates he was used to.

Neville had been surprised he’d agreed in the first place.

“I’d like that,” Blaise said quietly, smiling at him.


	4. "I don't care what they think. Let's do it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompted by udderlymoo.

“I don’t care what they think. Let’s do it!”

“Really?” Neville looked sceptical.

Blaise looked back at the superior expressions of his friends’ faces, and only felt more sure. “Yes.”

Neville didn’t look comforted. “You do realise that to do this, you will have to be around muggles? Lots of muggles?”

“I’m not allergic to muggles!” Blaise snapped.

Neville held up his hands in a placating gesture. “Alright, but have you thought over what it actually entails? Or are you only doing it because they think it’s stupid, and you’ll chicken out?”

That was a little on the nose. But it really had more to do with the way Neville’s eyes had unexpectedly lit up at the idea. It was completely surprising that he would even consider it, let alone look excited about it.

Having told their story, Dean and Seamus were now harassing Draco about how upper class and snobbish his Christmas holiday had been, which was entertainment enough for the whole night. Who needed party games, when someone made Draco turn red and have a hissy fit?

“We’re doing it. Next Year. Be nice not to freeze our bollocks off over Christmas at least.”

**A Year Later, New Zealand**

“You alright there?” Neville asked innocently.

Blaise was trying too hard not to look over the edge to even pretend he wasn’t seriously considering backing out. Bungy jumping. Draco and Pansy had been right. Insane. Lower class. Leaping off a fucking bridge with just a fucking rope. No magic. Completely fucking idiotic. No wonder Seamus and Dean had done it. Lunatics.

“Are you really sure you don’t want to do the tandem option?” Neville asked. “It’s not too late.”

The glare that one of the attendants shot his way said otherwise. But the idea of having something to cling to on the way down won out.

“Yeah, let’s do that.”

**Much Later**

Neville gave his shoulder a pat. “We’ll say we lost the photos of you doing it. No one has to know.”

Blaise cringed. He looked out the window of the car as Neville drove them away from that nightmare of a bridge.

At least the rest of the country was nice.


End file.
